talked to Louise without telling him about it. But I’d let her believe my conversation with Max had been about how to deal with Bingham. Thankfully, she’d bought it.
It was after ten before I realized Marco hadn’t come in for his dinner break. It wasn’t unusual for him to go somewhere else if he was too far away when his break rolled around, but he’d usually call and leave a message with Max. He hadn’t. Uneasiness crept through me.
I was in the process of settling a tab with a customer when a deputy walked through the door with a nervous expression and headed straight for the bar. He looked young, like he should be at home doing his algebra homework instead of wearing a uniform and a gun.
My heart fell to my feet, and my head swam.
“Marco.” I grabbed the back of an empty chair to keep myself upright.
Max exchanged words with the deputy—then, wearing a disapproving look, pointed him toward Ruth.
I turned to face her in surprise. Why was a deputy here looking for Ruth?
The fear on her face spurred me into action. I hurried over to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“Ruth Bristol?”
She nodded but didn’t speak.
“My name is Deputy Weaver. Your boyfriend Franklin was in an accident.”
Her knees buckled, and I fought to hold her up, but Max was already rushing over to help. He came around to her other side, wrapping an arm around her back.
“It happened by County Road 83,” the deputy continued, his hands shaking. I wondered if it was the first time he’d had to share this kind of news. “There was another car involved, but it’s no longer at the scene of the crime. Hit-and-run.”
Oh, my God. Had the person who’d run Jerry off the road just gone after Franklin?
Ruth shook her head, her expression stricken. Was she thinking the same thing?
Max stepped in. “Just tell the woman if her boyfriend is okay!” he said, his tone good and pissed.
“Oh,” the deputy said. “Yeah. His truck is totaled, and he’s pretty banged up, but he’s okay.”
“He’s okay?” Ruth repeated.
“Yeah. He needs stitches on his forehead, but Deputy Roland says to tell you he’s madder than a bobcat on a griddle.”
“Marco’s there?” I asked, surprised at how relieved I felt.
“Yeah. I’m supposed to tell his girlfriend that he’s tied up at the scene and won’t be here before she gets off.” He glanced around. “Is she around?”
Max rolled his eyes. “She’s standin’ right in front of you.”
The deputy narrowed his eyes at Ruth. “I thought you were Franklin’s girlfriend.”
Max gave Ruth a look that read, You good? She nodded, and Max let go of her and turned to the deputy, pointing to me. “The other woman is his girlfriend.”
“Oh.” He shrugged. “My bad.”
Max rolled his eyes, then told Ruth, “You go to Tater and take him to get stitches. Carly and I have got this.”
“Thank you,” she said, her voice breaking.
“And tell Marco that I’m gonna follow Carly back to his place, and we’ll meet him there.”
I started to protest, then stopped. Marco didn’t want me to be alone out there at night. And given that this was the second hit-and-run in a little over a week, he wasn’t wrong. It would put him at ease if Max followed me.
Fear and guilt skated through me again. Was Franklin’s accident my fault?
Ruth looked surprised but didn’t argue. She hugged us both, handed me her tip money and tickets, then ran out the back door.
I spent the next hour and a half tallying up the receipts. I tucked Ruth’s tips in an envelope and put it in Max’s office. When I walked back out to the dining room, Max was locking the front door and putting up the closed sign.
“It’s only a little after eleven.”
“The last customers have left, and no one else is comin’ in. Let’s get you home.”
Home. Where was home for me now? It wasn’t Hank’s right now, and deep in my heart, I wondered if he’d ever let me come back.
“I’m staying at Marco’s right now.”
“I figured we were headin’ there anyway. Come on,” Max said, heading toward the back of the dining room.
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Tiny said, untying his apron strings. He usually cleaned up the kitchen as he went, so he was ready to leave as soon as people stopped ordering food. The other cook had left after the dinner rush.
“I’ll follow you out there,” Max told me again, turning lights off as